Martin stood in the corridor outside of the Great Hall. He leaned on the wall, his arms folded across his chest. He stared as the older years walked by. Some of them spared a glance at these First Years, but most just ignored their presence as though they were moving portraits. He stared down his nose, watching the girl across from him tap her shoe. It was black. Leather. Her foot stopped tapping and he looked up, and saw that she was staring at him. She stepped towards him.
"You're Derek, aren't you? Derek Smith?"
Martin shook his head.
"Um…Wayne?"
His eyes narrowed and he shook his head again. She wasn't laughing, but he couldn't tell if she was trying to be funny or if she really couldn't remember his name.
"Um…well, I know you're not Neville. Are you?"
He shook his head for a third time. Fourth time's the charm. It always was.
She put her hand out. "I'm terrible with names. I kept calling Hagrid, Harry. It was humiliating. I'm Beatrice." She pushed her hand closer to him, her eyes brightening.
He clasped her hand with his, giving it one shake, then withdrawing. "I'm Marty. Martin, but everyone calls me Marty."
Beatrice looked around and soon they were joined by a third. She practically knocked them both over with her hug for Martin. "Gwen! Enough! You had dinner at the house last Sunday!"
"I'm so excited!" She was looking around, and had taken on the air of a squirrel chomping on nuts, her hands twisting and her eyes darting from Martin to Beatrice to the doorway where Headmaster Flitwick was beginning to gather the First Years for their Sorting. "Where do you think you'll be, Marty?"
He rolled his eyes. "Hufflepuff, where else?"
"There's nothing wrong with Hufflepuff," Beatrice chimed in. "I've heard." She shrugged.
"Hufflepuff's grand. We're all Hufflepuffs."
"No, you're not," Gwen said. "You've got a Gryff, don't you?"
"Jan's a Gryff, Nev's a Snake and Laura's a Ravenclaw. The rest of us are Puffs."
"There's nothing wrong with being a Hufflepuff." Derek's voice was strong as he tousled his brother's hair. Marty glared at Gwen, and then turned to face his older brother. His Head Boy badge was shining, reflecting the candlelight in the sconces. He shrugged, and Derek gave him an affectionate push before taking his place through the archway leading into the Great Hall.
One by one the First Years heard their names called, and the Sorting Hat put them in their places. Finally, it was his turn. He was the last one. No Weasleys this year. The Headmaster called out, "Smith, Martin."
He heard a few whispered, "Who? Another Smith? Is he the last one? I think there's one more after him."
Martin trudged up to the stool, and sat still while the Hat was placed upon his head. He had expected it to be immediate. Touched his hair, then pronounced him Hufflepuff, and be done with it, but no. The Hat wanted to play with him. The Hat sat there, balanced precariously on his head, and Martin was still, very still. He didn't want to displease the Hat. After all, he didn't want to be in Slytherin. He didn't think he wanted to be in Slytherin anyway.
"Hmm, Smith. You're a tough one to place. I want to say Hufflepuff –"
"Then why don't you?"
"Hmm, feisty, Mr. Smith. Where do you think you should go?"
Martin shrugged.
"That's not much of an answer. Are you afraid? That would eliminate Gryffindor as your House."
"I'm not afraid. I don't know where I should be. You're the Sorting Hat. Don't you know?"
"Hmm, you don't know. Not Ravenclaw then. Only two left."
"What do you plan on doing here?"
"Here? In the Great Hall? At the feast? In school? In Scotland? Which here?"
"Hmm. Obnoxious git. Slytherin's still on the table, I see. Have you anything else to say before I pronounce judgment?"
"Pronounce judgment? This isn't a trial."
"That's up to me, I would think. What are your plans for Hogwarts?"
Martin shrugged again. "What am I supposed to do?" he whispered. "It's all been done before. It's impossible."
"What's impossible? Tell me six impossible things and then I'll tell you your House."
"Fine.
"One. Derek's in his Seventh Year. He's a Head Boy. I will never be Head Boy."
"Do you want to be Head Boy?"
"I don't know."
"Next."
"Two. Laura's a Fifth Year. OWL year, which should be a cinch for her. She's a genius. Only Ravenclaw in the family. She's also a Prefect. Becoming prefect is impossible for me.
"Three. Gertie helps Hagrid with the beasties. She already knows what she wants to do with her life, and she's only fourteen. She'll be doing an internship at the Macmillan farm unless Dad finds out about her crush on Tommy Finnigan."
"You won't tell, will you?"
"No, of course not. She's my big sister. Besides, Dad would kill him and then she'd kill me."
"Self-preservation. Slytherin's still possible. That's three. Halfway there."
"Four. Dad wanted me to try out for Quidditch this year, now that First Years can try out, but I can't even ride a broom. It's impossible. I'm a klutz. Dad played. I know Mum can ride a broom. She just never shows me up."
"She loves you."
"She does, but that won't help me learn to ride, will it?"
"No."
"Fifth. No one ever remembers me. Being eighth sucks. It's impossible to get anywhere when no one remembers your name. You know, Mum once called me Morag. Morag?! That's a bloody girl's name, and she laughed. They all laughed. It's not funny!"
"No, it's not."
"Do you have a name?"
"Horatio."
Martin snickered. "Your Mum didn't like you much, did she?"
"I'm a hat. I don't think I had a mum. Next."
Martin hid his grin, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Sixth. It's impossible to be sorted into one House when there's so much going on in my head. Impossible."
"So you say, but that's impossible for you to decide. That's why it's my decision. And I think I know where you belong."
"You do? A clue here?"
The Hat stopped for a moment and then shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!" As the Hat was taken from his head and he stood, searching the room for his table, Martin heard the Hat say very quietly for his ears only, "Nothing's impossible, Martin. There is nothing you can't do."
Martin turned to look at the hat, but now it was silent for another year. He smiled, and trotted over to his table, his new House. Derek lifted him off his feet in a bear hug. Gwen patted him on the back and Gertie smiled and tugged his sleeve. Beatrice smiled from the Gryffindor table, and when he sat down, he knew that nothing was impossible for a Hufflepuff.